


Coming Home

by VisionaryGalaxy



Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [104]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, OT3, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 17:06:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18554077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisionaryGalaxy/pseuds/VisionaryGalaxy
Summary: They always seemed to be waiting for each other to come home.





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> More of these three to come ;)

   The atmosphere of the room was tense, uncomfortable, miserable really.

   Tony blew a quiet sigh from his place in the doorway of his bedroom, willfully trying to ignore the urge to slink away unnoticed to his workshop. It wouldn’t be difficult, from the looks of it, Carol wasn’t likely to notice anything but a nuclear blast.

   But that wouldn’t be fair, and although the solitude might call to him, he knew he didn’t really want that either, not anymore. Slowly, he approached Carol who was sitting cross legged in front of his floor to ceiling windows, gazing out across the sprawling city.

   She was, in a word, stunning. In any other context, the way the setting sun set her skin ablaze and her blond hair glowing would be awe-inspiring, its warmth enough to melt her frigid stance on the best of days. But now, as it set little by little, the only light it cast was laced with doom.

   He paused when he was standing next to her, debating whether or not to join her on the floor, when one of her hands snaked up to catch one of his, tugging lightly, even as her gaze didn’t stray from the sun. He sunk down gratefully and just like that, as though neither of them could stand the distance a moment longer, she was pressing hard against his side, head tilted on his shoulder.

   He couldn’t help the way his eyes fluttered closed at the contact, despite the strain he felt in her muscles, the unspoken fear showing itself through her body and reflected in his own. He found himself looking at their reflections, the obvious distress on her face not so dissimilar to his own.

   He squeezed the arm that he had slung around her. The further the sun slipped behind skyscrapers the faster his heart beat, dread slithering up his spine, a stinging behind his lids that was downright terrifying.

   She gripped his hand again, nails digging into the flesh, but he didn’t mind, “he’s late,” she whispered, voice rough with the strain of keeping her emotions in check.

   The sound only made it worse for Tony, because Carol was so god damn logical, in control, maybe not quite as much as Stephen but still. He took a shaky breath, tilted his head to kiss her hair, pretending it would all be fine, “he’ll be here.”

   He could feel the skepticism in her silence, but he also knew it was what she needed to hear, even if Tony was doubting it himself.

   Stephen was never late, was always eerily punctual for whatever time line he gave them when he was dimension hopping. The few times that he’d overstepped, Wong had notified them immediately, but not today. Today the time was rapidly running out and there was no word, not a hint as to what happened. It was terrifying enough to know he regularly slipped away to places they couldn’t follow, but this moment right here was downright torturous.

   Carol tilted her head into his chest and Tony might be emotionally repressed to all hell but they both loved him with a burning desire that was downright dizzying and it felt two-fold to know Stephen was somewhere out there while Carol was in his arms suffering because of it. Maybe he was a fool to think he could fit two souls into his heart because he really didn’t know how to do this.

   The reflection suddenly lit up a brilliant orange, making Carol’s head snap toward the glass as they both watched a portal flare to life behind them. Tony found himself frozen as a tall lean figure stepped through, clad in brilliant red and muted blue.

   The moment it closed and fizzled out they were scrambling to their feet, eyes wide and relieved. Stephen looked…exhausted and a bit sheepish to boot, as though he was painfully aware that he was in trouble. He offered a small smile, trembling hands gripping at the fabric and apparently blissfully unaware of the cut on his neck currently oozing blood.

   Stephen swallowed thickly, “I’m sorry I’m late.”

   Carol was the first to act, eyes narrowing, “you idiot.”

   She was then bounding forward, and Tony was right behind her, yanking him into their arms which he did pliantly, the Cloak popping off his shoulders and disappearing into the tower. The moment his arms closed around him, Tony took in the sharp scent of blood and sweat, the odour common to Stephen’s travelling and he was horrified to realize he nearly wanted to cry from the relief pounding through his veins.

   “I’m sorry,” Stephen said again, once they pulled back.

   “I know,” was all Tony said, glancing at Carol whose expression reflected his own.

   She ran a hand through his hair, murmuring, “I’ll get the bath started.”

   He didn’t miss the way he winced, mouth opening to protest, but Tony was quick to squeeze his elbow meaningfully. They needed this, he had scared them, and they deserved the right to take care of him a bit.

   Under Carol’s glare and Tony’s touch he subsided, giving a short nod. Her smile was small as she turned to go for the bathroom, while Tony took Stephen’s arm in his, leading him over to the island counter.

   “I really am sorry, time worked differently there-”

   “Ok,” Tony said, sitting him down on one of the stools and turning away to grab the first-aid kit.

   He knew his silence was unsettling his lover, his short answers probably making him feel worse, but Tony was still reeling from the whiplash of emotions, so tired of a life that felt like it was three-quarters waiting for his hearts to come home.

   He set it down, turning to face Stephen, only to see the way his eyes were downcast, guilt swimming in their depths, head tilted to the side obligingly. Tony blew out a shaky sigh, because as shit as he felt, he knew Stephen got it. He and Carol weren’t the only ones that waited, Stephen had waited on him, with him more times then he could count.

   Using a gentle rag, Tony began to diligently wipe at the cut. It wasn’t overly large and most of it had crusted over with dried blood. The one end, however, was deeper and still oozing, so in silence, one eye on Stephen’s reaction, he took peroxide to it. It bubbled slightly and he carefully wiped away the excess and the blood until he could see the gash clearly. There didn’t appear to be any foreign substance, thank god, the memory of finding a claw imbedded too fresh in his mind. He prepared gauze after contemplating stitches, but Stephen would have mentioned it.

   It was soothing to focus on this task, and he was grateful Stephen sat there pliantly for him. The click of the first-aid kit signaled he was done, and Stephen was looking at him, face a little pale, eyes a little regretful and Tony felt capable of giving him something more.

   So, he leaned forward until their foreheads were touching, one hand cupping the unmarked side of his neck, eyes closing and just breathing him in. Stephen’s trembling hands settled on his hips, light as a feather, as though unsure if the touch would be welcomed.

   “I love you,” Tony murmured.

   “I love you too,” the hands tightened briefly, and Tony wondered why this was so hard.

   He should be used to all the waiting by now, should be capable of letting Stephen come home and fall into bed without a word, yet here he was, feeling exhausted and drained as though Stephen had taken a piece of his soul with him when he left.

   It was a lot. It always was.

   Tony pulled back, wrapping a hand around Stephen’s elbow and tugging him up from the seat, “come on, Carol’s waiting.”

\---

   Carol stared at the punching bag, swinging from left to right while the sound of sand spilling onto the floor filled the room. She stood there, fists clenching and unclenching, emotion welling inside her, the need to do something, to act, to stop sitting here being useless, overwhelming her.

   It was enough to make her usually flawless control slip and now she had burned a hole through her eighth punching bag. She backed away from the mess, trying to breath deeply, and hating the way it grated on her. She had thought a distraction, something physical would help to calm her, make the jittery anxiety that she had felt since Tony walked out the door, stop. Apparently, she was very, very wrong.

   Swallowing thickly, she slipped out of the room, body already propelling her toward the sitting room where she knew Stephen was. She didn’t like interrupting him while he studied, sometimes even resented him for being able to have so much composure, while Tony was out there fighting off a being she could probably destroy within seconds, no matter what her lover had to say about it.

   But it didn’t change the fact that she knew she would feel better in his presence, because she had seen the way relief would glance across his expression when Tony checked in, saw the way he held him closer at night, just like he did to her.

   Carol paused in the doorway, taking in Stephen’s still form, sitting on the couch with a book in his lap, trembling finger following his place and lips moving lightly as he traced the foreign words. Despite herself, it brought a smile to her lips, the focus in his eyes, the disheveled hair that gave away it was difficult translation.

   In near silence, Carol padded over the cool hardwood until she could slip onto the couch and press close to his side. He didn’t falter, simply leaned into her a little more, the words he was mouthing becoming an audible whisper. There was a quiet swoosh and then the Cloak was sweeping into the room and draping itself over her and she was still convinced Stephen must have some telepathic connection with the thing.

   Settling more firmly against him, eyes flickering closed, listening to Stephen’s deep whisper, it was easier to ignore the unease churning in her gut, easier to ignore the buzzing energy telling her to act. She understood why she couldn’t involve herself in every Avengers battle, could agree with the strategy of not always playing their trump card and even the sensibility in making sure the Avengers could maintain their dynamic, it was the same reason Stephen hadn’t joined, but it didn’t change the fact she hated it, hated waiting.

   But at least she wasn’t alone.

   Carol wasn’t sure how long they sat there, aware that it was enough to put a sizable dent in the pages Stephen worked through, long enough for his whisper to grow a little horse. Still, it was peaceful for all that, until, quite suddenly, there was a shrill ringing from the phone broke the spell.

   She jolted up, reaching for it with a hammering heart. She held the device in her hand and blew a sigh of relief to see Tony’s name. If he had been hurt, they wouldn’t call from his phone and they wouldn’t have called her first.

   “Hello?” she answered with a grin, glancing at Stephen, whose expression was still a little dazed from being knocked out his flow and she knew he was trying to remind himself how to speak English again.

   “Hey, checking in. Kicked-ass and am ready to sleep for the next three years.”

   She almost rolled her eyes, but the rush of relief was still pounding through her veins.

   “Good to hear it but do you plan on eating dinner with us before going to bed old man?” her tone was teasing, but some of her anxiety must of slipped through, the ever-present need they all seemed to feel after to just be together, because his voice softened.

   “I think I could be convinced.”

   “Cheap take-out it is.”

   Stephen grimaced, shaking his head a little. Carol paid him no mind, seeing the gleam in his eye that gave away his own relief that Tony was fine. She squeezed his shoulder and his trembling hand came up to hold her wrist lightly, both of them listening as Tony gave a humour play by play of the fight, all the while the background swoosh of wind, telling them he was on his way home to them.

\---

   Stephen stood next to the large circular window, peering out into the grey morning light, barely piercing through the rain clouds. The quiet pitter patter on the glass was infinitely soothing and Stephen almost felt as though he could fall asleep right there.

   He didn’t of course.

   Sleep wouldn’t come easily to him, even with Tony curled up in the sheets of his bed, an inviting and tempting heat that unfortunately, just wasn’t enough. The bed, small as it was, simply felt too empty for just them and he felt it keenly.

   Today marked the fifth day that Carol had been away. She was called back to aid in transportation of a recently discovered Skrull community that had gone into hiding years ago and were ready to re-join their brethren. It was particularly dangerous, especially when compared to most of her escapades but the realization did nothing to quell the churning in his gut, the dread that seemed ever present when one of his lovers disappeared. It wasn’t fair of him, he did it often enough, and that was why he wouldn’t complain. No, he would stand at this window, waiting patiently for the familiar flash of colour too numerous to be a comet, signalling her return to them.

   The Cloak wound around his wrist, giving him a gentle tug, simply letting him know that there was an approaching presence. It was only eight o’clock, far too early by Tony’s standard, so he was surprised to see him approaching from down the hallway.

   He looked tired. Tony’s own sleep schedule had been messy since she left as well and Stephen felt a pang of guilt, knowing he was partly to blame for that too. Still…he seemed better off then himself, even as he rubbed at his eyes, muscled arm shifting enticingly in the simple tank top accompanied by low hanging pajama bottoms.

   Stephen looked away before he had to see the disappointed expression that always came to him when he woke up alone, “good morning.” He murmured.

   Tony didn’t say anything, his bare feet padding across the hardwood until he was close enough to brush at the Cloak in greeting and it popped off his shoulders. Before the damp chill that had been evading the Sanctum could get to him, Tony quickly replaced the fabric by wrapping his arms around his waist, squeezing lightly, chin resting on his shoulder.

   “How is she?” Tony whispered, placing a soft kiss to his neck.

   A small smile quirked the edge of his lips at the question. It was true that sleep wasn’t the only thing draining him of his energy. He’d long ago worked out a spell to sense Carol as she attended to her missions, a comfort for the both of them.

   He couldn’t see her, only sense her. Should he ever feel something go wrong, he’d be able (will considerable effort) to get an exact location so that he and Tony could intervene. She didn’t know and for awhile Tony didn’t either because he knew they wouldn’t like it. Carol wouldn’t want him to be draining himself and Tony was none too happy about it as well, but he seemed resigned to Stephen’s stubbornness.

   “She’s good, I’d even wager that she might be home very very soon.”

   Tony let out a relieved breath, Stephen hadn’t been wrong yet, “good. Which means its time that you eat something and get some rest.”

   Stephen tensed, not wanting to give up his post, the urge to watch the skies calling to him just like it always did. But Tony wasn’t having it, already releasing him only to grab his wrist and begin tugging him toward the stairs with a simple look, “you promised.”

   He had.

   And he supposed it was the least he could do for her, to make sure her arrival was met with open arms and two well-rested lovers to hold her as she slept.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope everyone enjoyed, this was a lot of fun to write :)


End file.
